


ever since the day we died

by MaryStuarts (morganadepoitiers)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, More angst, Pining, Smut, mentions of robb/jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganadepoitiers/pseuds/MaryStuarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't want to be his cheap replacement. I want you to be mine, mine alone. I want all of you. I want you to want only me."</p><p>In which Theon wants Robb, but fears he still only wants Jon after a first kiss gone wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ever since the day we died

The first time it happened Theon had been angry and disappointed.

Robb had come to him at night, like Theon had only ever dreamed about. It was after a long day of training, and a long night of telling Bran and Rickon stories to get them to sleep. Theon had left his chamber door open. He often did these days, as he and Robb spent nights talking now. Robb would come to his room after his studies with Luwin and sit at the end of his bed. They talked until they could no longer fight off their tiredness before Robb left to retire to his own chambers, and Theon always wished he would stay, even in the most innocent of ways. He wished Robb would just lay down and sleep beside him. They didn't even have to touch or undress. He just wanted Robb to lie with him, to fall asleep beside him.

But on this night it was different. Robb didn't speak when he entered the room. He only stared at Theon with something strange in his eyes, his pupils wide, his breathing short. Theon recognized the look in his eyes, because he saw it often enough in the brothels. It was the look of someone who lusted.

Theon's stomach was fluttering when the bed dipped beneath Robb's weight and he crawled up Theon's body, his hands braced beside his shoulders. Theon looked up at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates, burning with want. He'd deny it til the he died, but his eyes also held reverence, as his hands found their way to Robb's hips and circled the skin beneath his tunic with his thumbs.

And then Robb leaned down, his fingers curling around the hem of Theon's shirt, brushing his collarbones with little touches, and his mouth was right there, inches above his own, his lips parted and his tongue laving over his white teeth. Theon _wanted_ so badly, but he waited, waited to see if this was really what Robb wanted, instead of just taking, plundering. He didn't want to take. He wanted it offered to him.

When Robb's lips finally touched his, he felt the heavens open, with just that sweet, soft, barely lingering touch, tantalizing and not enough, and it was everything Theon had ever dreamed. But then Robb breathed a name.

 _"Jon,"_ the name left his mouth on a breath that burned Theon's skin.

He felt his insides freeze and then shatter as if with a blow from a hammer. His fists curled into claws around Robb's hips.

He threw him off viciously.

Robb looked startled and wounded as he fell back to the edge of the bed, and Theon wanted to stammer an apology, but also wanted to punch him at the same time. He entertained the idea and imagined himself punching Robb, but as soon as he did he felt a pang of remorse and guilt, imagining how the blood would pour from Robb's freckled nose.

But then he also wanted Robb to bleed, wanted his blood on his hands, for making him feel this way. Nobody else was capable of doing this to him. _Damn him. Damn him._

"Theon," Robb said, kneeling forward. "What-"

Theon grabbed him by the tunic and reeled him in again for a hard, bruising kiss, and allowed himself one moment of indulgence when he slid a hand beneath Robb's tunic and scored his nails down his back, feeling warm muscles contract beneath his palm, giving himself a tantalizing taste of what it would feel like to have him completely - to make love to him. _No, not_ make love, _not that - just fuck him._ Theon wasn't some prissy knight in a maiden's song, he didn't make love, he fucked. He whored. He pillaged. There was no love in him. His fingers twined in the curls at the nape of Robb's neck as he captured his bottom lip in his teeth and _pulled_ , Robb's breath hitching in a startled gasp.  _There's no love in me._

Yet why did his heart pester him so, when he released his grip on Robb's shirt and pulled away? Both of their lips were red and raw, Theon's tingling.

"Get out," Theon heard himself say. He laid back down in his furs and put on the facade of casual boredom, as easily as donning a cloak, to hide the turmoil beneath. "Sorry, was I not clear? Get the fuck out."

He took a small bit of savage pleasure in the shock on Robb's face, the hurt in his eyes as he recoiled from the rejection. A small bit of pleasure. Not a lot, and not enough to overpower how much he ached. When Robb straightened his clothing and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth - _gods, his mouth, his bitten raw mouth_ \- he left, slipping away into the dark castle with barely another word.

Theon lied still on the bed and thought about how badly he hurt, rejection cast around his ribs like fishing net, loneliness covering him like furs. He felt Robb's lips on his when he shut his eyes, how soft and warm they were, but he kept hearing the way Robb had whispered _"Jon"_ with such longing, and it hurt every time.

Theon realized it wasn't Robb's blood he wanted. It was Snow's.

Damn the bastard. He was gone. He chose to leave. So why wouldn't all of him leave? Why did his presence linger on Robb's mouth? He wanted Robb so badly, wanted all of him, but even from all the way on the Wall, Snow still had him in his grip. Damn him.

Minutes after he kicked Robb out of his room, Theon wished he hadn't. He wished he had someone lying next to him. He wished Robb would have at least laid beside him and hooked his foot over Theon's ankle, and let Theon's fingers find his wrist in the dark. But then he would know, wouldn't he? He would know everything then.

***

He shouldn't have been so pleased that half the Starks were gone away, but he couldn't deny to himself, in the dark privacy of his own thoughts, that he was. He finally had the one thing he wanted the most in abundance, which was Robb's attention. It wasn't so divided amongst his family members now, so there was more of it for Theon. He had often before found himself lamenting that there were too many people and not enough of Robb to go around - especially when it came to that dark, dour Snow, and his angry stares whenever Theon tried to get Robb to come with him somewhere. He didn't exactly mind the other whelps, aside from Snow, the eternal thorn in his side. Sansa usually minded her own business, and Arya was an amusing child. Rickon was too young to be much of a nuisance and Brandon too crippled.

But now it was Theon who Robb sparred with in the yard, who he talked with at night, who sat beside him during tedious work with Maester Luwin, who he exchanged whispered quips and jokes to lessen their boredom. Every time he whispered a jape in Robb's ear and was rewarded with Robb biting his lip to hide his smile, Theon inwardly sings to himself.

Robb seeks him out more now, asks for his company when attending something tedious. He sees Robb the perfect heir turning into the perfect young lord, always composed, always good. It stirred things in Theon - the urge to follow him and serve him, obey his commands, accompanied with the white hot desire to rumple him, get under his skin, get him flustered.

But he knows he's just a replacement for the bastard in Robb's eyes, and if he let Robb into his bed, that's what he would be there too. He'd impale himself upon his sword before letting Robb see just how much it wounds him. He didn't mind if Robb knew he wanted his body - everybody knew Theon couldn't keep his cock to himself. But he couldn't bear the thought of Robb discovering the depths of that desire, that it went down deeper than Theon ever wanted to go. Especially if he was treading all alone.

***

It all fell apart when they were sparring in the yard, a week after the incident in Theon's chambers. If the way Theon had rejected him still stung, Robb showed no sign of it. He was ever the gracious young lord, devoted to his training, who showed no sign of ill feeling toward him. Theon had fought Robb a thousand times before, and it had been frustrating at times, to knock Robb to the ground and see him panting and sweaty beneath him, and oftentimes he had to feign a muscle ache to excuse himself before anyone noticed the tenting of his breeches. It wouldn't do to have Lord Stark or even the bastard Snow see how his body reacted around Robb.

But that was nothing compared to the slow torture of having Robb so close to him, wiping his brow and licking the sweat from his lip, after those lips had _kissed_ him. Theon catches himself leering, and then Robb's sword catches him in the chest.

The breath is knocked out of his lungs as he staggers back and hits the dirt. He feels his bones rattle inside his armor. Robb stood over him grinning, hoisting the blade above his head.

"Do you yield, Greyjoy?" Theon slumps back on the ground and sucks in a breath, distracted by the halo of Robb's hair as he stands in front of the cold sun.

Robb's tongue runs over his teeth, and Theon wonders if he knows he's killing him. He must know. Theon feels like his insides are on the outside of him, like his desire is branded on his face for all to see.

"Do you yield?" Robb asks, the tip of his blade pressing into the boiled leather guarding Theon's chest.

Theon grabs the blade and kicks out, sweeping Robb's legs out from under him. He laughs triumphantly when Robb falls to the ground beside him, but his laughter is short lived when Robb lunges on him, grabbing his arms and pinning his wrists to the ground, his face flushed and eyes blazing, grinning at how he's maintained the upper hand.

"Yield," Robb demands with a wild grin. He looks less like the prim lord he's been raised to be and more like the wolf that always prowls beside him, and Theon wants to grab him by the hair and pull him down to meet his mouth, but instead he laughs sharply.

"Make me, Stark." _Make me stop before I do something we'll both regret,_ Theon thinks.

Then Robb shifts on top of him, tightening his grip on Theon's wrists to maintain his hold.

Theon's whole body goes rigid with shock and arousal when Robb slips his knee between Theon's thighs. He thinks it must be an accident, that Robb didn't mean it like _that,_ but when he sees the blown out pupils in Robb's eyes, there could be no doubting his intention, and all of the blood in his body rushes straight to his cock.

Everything changes all at once.

He grabs Robb's waist without thinking about it, feels the heat of him through his tunic - and then remembers that they're in the middle of the yard where anyone might see.

The threat isn't powerful enough to stop him.

Lightheaded and dazed with lust, Theon reaches down and cups Robb's groin, feeling that he was hard. Robb slumped on top of him, the strength gone out of his muscles. His mouth is wet against Theon's neck when he pants, "Fuck. Oh, _fuck."_

Theon's head nearly explodes. Robb cursing was an erotic taste he didn't know he craved until this moment, and he rubs the heel of his palm over Robb's hardness again, every sound from his mouth taking Theon closer to the edge. He was so close and he'd barely been touched. "Theon," Robb's breath tickles his ear and fills his belly with warmth, as he puts his hand over Theon's and presses it harder. "Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck._ " Robb grinds his hips into Theon's hand in a steady rhythm, his knee pressing into Theon's cock, the friction both sweet and painful through layers of clothes. The next thing he knows he's seeing stars, and Robb is biting his shoulder, shuddering on top of him.

Theon comes to his senses about the same time Robb does.

One of his hands is still on Robb's waist, and he tries to disguise it as a defense move by rolling Robb off of him. The yard is empty when he sits up but anyone might've come by while they were distracted.

Theon wonders what they might have looked like. The Lord of Winterfell rutting against their hostage prince. If anybody important found out he'd probably be forced to take the black.

It would almost be worth it, if he could spend the rest of his lonely nights with the memory of Robb cursing in his ear, grinding into his hand, the wet patch his mouth had left on his tunic. And he'd get to rub it in that bastard's face when he saw him at the Wall. _"I made your brother come without even taking our clothes off. You ever manage that, Snow?"_

 ***

After the incident in the yard Robb had run off to his chambers, as did Theon, and he didn't see the young lord again until supper that night. He'd sat at the table with his guests in the hall, clean and composed with his hair neatly pushed back, and he greeted Theon with only a nod. Theon didn't hear a word anyone said that night. He thought of only Robb on top of him.

And then, to torture himself, he brings the night in his chambers back to his mind, how Robb whispered, _"Jon."_ He thinks of it again and again, twisting the knife in the gut, as he studies Robb's profile in the candlelight of the hall. The ache burns inside of him like ale. There are a thousand ways he'd like to kill Jon Snow, and a thousand more things he wants to do to Robb. All he feels is ice cold rage and white hot desire battling it out inside of him like a sickness. 

They don't speak of what happened. They don't speak much at all after that. He avoids Robb to the best of his ability during the day, and eats alone in the kitchens at night, and fucks the serving girls on his way out. He returns to the brothels in Winter Town every day, has his way with every wench. And if one of the girls had shiny red curls and he pulled them a little too hard when he was taking her from behind, well then, that was nobody else's business.

Nearly a week after the incident, as he returns to the castle at nightfall after a long day in the brothels, he sees Robb outside, saying farewells to some lord of some castle somewhere, Theon doesn't give a fuck where.

Robb sees him for a moment, pausing in whatever he was saying as a look crosses his face. His eyes seem to darken in distaste. _Well, fuck you too,_ Theon thinks vehemently as he begins to head toward his chambers, pretending the pang in his chest is from hunger and nothing else at all.

***

Though he'd spent hours in the brothels that day, he laid in bed that night nearly feverish with want, a hand around his cock as he conjured up images of all the wenches he's ever fucked, with big tits and long soft hair to tangle his fingers in when they sucked his cock.

But all his mind kept straying to was what happened in the yard a week ago, and how Robb's curls shone like embers when he stood in front of the sun, and the wet patch on Theon's tunic from Robb's mouth. Theon tries to think about anything except him, but he can't - can't ever.

Robb was lucky in a way. He cared for so many people. When Theon looked inside himself and into the softest reaches of his heart there was only the saltwater of Pyke, blurred memories of home, and then Robb. He had a flurry of different feelings about Lord Stark, ranging from admiration to resentment, and a vague sort of tolerance for the other Stark children. He couldn't remember how he felt about his true-born siblings. But Robb...he was the only thing clear and real. He was stitched into him, tucked under his lungs. The only one who had ever looked up to him. The only one who considered him family, from the time he'd been small and begging Theon to let him ride around on his shoulders. Though now Theon wants him to ride his cock, which makes things more complicated.

He was the only one Theon would ever truly, fully want as more than just a quick fuck. So why couldn't Robb just want him back? Not as a replacement for the bastard, but as him. A week ago in the yard, with what happened between them - had Robb been thinking of only Snow then? Theon lies in bed and seethes. Snow was an idiot, a fool. He had Robb's attention and his heart, had him in his bed, and he threw it away so he could shrivel his balls off in perpetual abstinence on the Wall. Theon couldn't imagine having Robb's mouth on him, having his hands all over him every night, and leaving him behind. He grabs his cock and imagines Robb straddling him, imagines his hot puffs of breath in his ear, the way Theon's name would sound when Robb pants it out as Theon drives him out of his mind with pleasure. 

He could fuck Robb better than Snow ever could. He could show him things, do things to him Snow would never think to do, and he wouldn't even leave afterward. He's just untied the laces of his breeches to get his hand at a better angle when he hears a knock on his chamber door. His hand stills, the blood rushing in his ears filling the silence. He listens to make sure he heard correctly, and when he hears the knock again, louder this time, he shoves his cock back in his breeches and climbs out of bed.

When he opens the door and Robb is standing in the dark of the hall, Theon's heart - and other parts of his body - gives a weak stutter of want. It doesn't know when to quit.

He's still fully dressed in his doublet, so he must have come straight here from the maester's quarters. His hair looks tussled like he's been dragging his fingers through it in boredom all night, and Theon wants to drag his own fingers through it some more, but when he speaks there's no indication of such affection.

"What do you want, Stark?" he snaps.

"What do _you_ want, Theon?" Robb asks without pretense. He leans in the doorway, so close Theon can smell his hair and the wine on his breath, and it's immediately apparent that he's had too much to drink.  His voice is breathy and rasps in his throat. "I thought it was me. But when I came to your bed a fortnight ago, you threw me out of it."

 _I do want you,_ Theon thinks as he swallows, _and that's the great tragedy._

Theon doesn't answer, just stares into Robb's wild blue eyes that shine with impatience.

"What happened a week ago?" Robb asked. "In the yard? Was any of it..."

"Was any of it what?" Theon sneers, though inside his heart is pounding. "We got each other off. Did you want me to ask for your hand? Should I have given you a bouquet of roses?"

"You've been avoiding me ever since," Robb said. "I thought that perhaps I...perhaps I forced myself upon you, and that you didn't want me at all. But then," he swallows, and Theon's eyes are drawn to the movement of his throat.

"But then what?" Theon prompts. He wonders if Robb can see him shaking.

"What of that night, when I came to you?" Robb's eyes are blazing, urgent, and Theon can smell the wine on his breath and it was making him lean in. "Why do you stare at me like you do, and try to touch me throughout the day, always putting your hand on my shoulder or my arm, always whispering in my ear?" Robb demands. His voice rasps when he grabs Theon by the arm, his fingers curling in the sleeve of his tunic. "You could have me whenever you want, but instead you choose whores. I can't stop thinking about that night. Why did you kiss me, Theon? Why did you kiss me then?"

Theon can't stand it any longer, he takes Robb's face in his hands and kisses him. It feels like the only good decision he's ever made. He can taste the wine on his tongue and his breath in his throat, the soft press of his mouth. Theon almost wants to die then, because he knows there will never be anyone else, for as long as he lives. He reels Robb into his chambers by the collar of his tunic and then closes the door behind them so he can kiss Robb against it, his mouth soft and warm, his fingers at the nape of Theon's neck.

"You're not going to throw me out again?" Robb says with a smile, but there's worry in his eyes.

"It's your castle, Stark," Theon says even as his fingers slide beneath Robb's doublet to feel the smooth muscles beneath. He slides his hand up and feels Robb's heart beating beneath his palm. "I can't throw you out of anywhere."  _Not even out of my damned head._

"You did the last time I was in here," Robb asks, his hands cupping Theon's face. His blue eyes burn a hole into him and Theon has to look away, focuses on undoing the fastenings of his leathers as Robb touches his face. "Why did you?"

Theon doesn't want to think about it, and he certainly doesn't want to ever tell Robb what's troubling him. He just wants to fuck, wants to feel Robb's fingers in his hair. He doesn't want to feel the storm of jealousy and heartache that threatens to bubble to the surface. He ignores Robb's question and tugs off his doublet, pulls at the laces of his tunic.

"Theon," Robb says sternly like he's going to press the matter, using his Lord of Winterfell face. When Theon leans in and mouth at the pulse point on is neck Robb says, _"Theon,"_ again, but it's breathless this time, and his brows furrow like he can't remember what he was going to say.

Theon leads Robb back towards the bed, pulling him by the waist of his breeches where Theon has his fingers hooked.

But then Robb suddenly shoves him down and climbs atop him. Theon's excitement about where this was going was quelled by the serious look on Robb's face. He splays his hand across Theon's chest to hold him down.

"Why didn't you want me that night?" Robb asks. "Why did you throw me off you?"

"Why do you keep asking me?" Theon snaps, his hands gliding up Robb's thighs, until Robb swats his hands away. Theon can feel that he won't be going any further until he answers the question, and he lets out an angry puff of breath. "I wasn't in the mood to fuck, is all. Do you want to write a song about it?"

"But you were angry," Robb said. "I'd never seen you so angry. You looked like you were going to hit me."

I wanted to, Theon thinks, but I would never actually.

"What did I do?" Robb leans over so that their faces are a breath apart. Robb is sitting right over his groin, so if Theon just _pushes up_...

The friction is sweet, and Robb bites his lip to hold back whatever sound he wanted to make. It was driving Theon mad. He wants to grab him,  ravage him, but he doesn't. He doesn't. Their foreheads touch, and Robb's lips are right above his own.

"We were just like this," Robb said, and he leans in ever closer, and Theon tilts his chin to meet his lips. But Robb pulls away and Theon could explode. "But then you pushed me off."

"Because you said _his_ name," Theon sits up and shouts, grabbing Robb by the arms in his rage. "You said his name, not mine, and I could have killed you!" His voice echoes around the quiet chamber, and Robb flinches. "I'd have killed him if the bastard was still here! He's gone, he left you, and still I can't have you for myself! I don't want to be his cheap replacement. I want you to be mine, mine alone. I want all of you. I want you to want only me."

And Theon knows he'd gone too far, that his facade had cracked and shown the hurt beneath, that now Robb knew just how much he feels for him. He could never again pretend that Robb was just somebody who lived beneath the roof he was trapped under, that he was just the son of the man who imprisoned him. The only thing that imprisoned him was his traitor heart beating for Robb alone and no one else. And now Robb knew too.

He realized his hands were still gripping Robb's arms, leaving welts where his nails had bit the skin, and he lets go at once, feeling shamed.

Instead of fleeing, Robb climbs into his lap and puts his hand to Theon's cheek. He's frozen in place by such tenderness, after he'd shown Robb such aggression. Robb stares into his eyes, then his gaze drops down to his mouth. Theon's belly burns with want, all the anger burnt out of him again and replaced with this treasonous affection. Robb always does that to him.

"I'm sorry," Robb says, "I never knew." And that was that. Robb kisses him with his open mouth, red and wet and hot, and Theon feels like he's melting, but the shame keeps piercing through the pleasure. 

"I shouldn't have -" Theon starts, fingertips touching the angry red marks his nails had left on Robb's skin. He can't remember if he's ever apologized to Robb for anything before, but he can't stop the words from spilling out now, "I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry,_ I'm-"

"Don't," Robb kisses him again and he could almost lose himself. He could almost forget everything but this. "Don't." He licks the seam of Theon's lips until he parts them, and at the touch of his tongue against his own Theon's cock jumps in his breeches and he clamps his hands down over Robb's hips.

But when Robb rolls his hips and grinds against his belly, it's so uncharacteristically lewd, something feral takes hold of Theon and he growls against his mouth in a kiss that's more of a bite.

"Who taught you how to move like that, Stark?" Theon husks in his ear, his breath ragged. "I had no idea you were so filthy."

"Lucky you," Robb says, clawing at his back. "You love it." He drags his hand up the back of Theon's neck and through his hair. "You're glad to find I can be as perverse as you."

Theon barks a laugh. "As perverse as me? No. Not yet you aren't," Theon said. "But we have time." A wicked smile lights his face. "I can show you things. Teach you things. Things that would make you blush like a maiden. Do you want that?"

"I want you. Just you," Robb says. Theon's heart soars, though he knows it can't be true. How could somebody like Robb want him alone? Who would ever really want him? His own father hadn't. Robb's face is suddenly so close to his, so that he's breathing his breath. "I did want Snow. I missed him. He's my brother, I always will miss him." Robb's warm hands are on Theon's face as he looks into his eyes. "Don't you miss your brothers?"

Theon can barely remember them. He only remembers being taken away.

"You're the only brother I'd ever miss," Theon answers honestly. "Am I yours?"

"Now and always." His fingers touch Theon's lips, and Theon wants to die with how much he loves him. He loves him, he loves him, he loves him. He must have known it before now. "Would you leave me if you had the chance, Theon?"

Theon leans in so that their foreheads are touching and shakes his head.

"I wouldn't." _I never want to._

"Then fuck me." Theon thought he would die before he heard Robb say those words, but Robb is straddling him, biting his lip as he grinds down on him. Theon's skin prickles, his whole body alight. He felt like his head was spinning. "I want you to fuck me, Theon." Robb pauses for a moment, breathing heavily, before saying, "I want you to ruin me."

"Ruin you?" In a surge of primal desire he flips them over and shoves Robb down onto the bed, pinning his wrists as he husked into his ear. "I'll ruin you, alright. I'll fuck you so hard you won't remember your name." He tightened his grip on his wrists until the sweat beads beneath his thumbs. His cock is so hard it's almost painful as it rubs against Robb's thigh. "You won't remember anything but me. Is that what you want, lad?"

"That's all I've wanted for weeks," Robb says. He stared up at Theon with lust blown eyes. "I wake up at night from dreaming of you and half die every time. When you touch me I feel it linger for hours. Every day I watch you choose someone else. I thought you knew all this time. I thought you were toying with me. The girls in the taverns, the brothels..."

"I only think of you," Theon said _. I don't want to but I do._ "Girls are good fun, and I can't say I don't like fucking them, but..." _But I gravitate toward you. When I close my eyes you're seared behind my lids like I've stared into the sun._ "I can't ever think of anyone but you and I can't make it stop." 

"Don't make it stop," Robb says and grabs his hand. "Think of me always. Never belong to anyone else." 

There's oil beside Theon's bed that he'd taken from the maester's turret, and he uncorks it and coats his fingers in it, his stomach fluttering at the the realization of what's about to happen. Robb twisted on the bed and bit his fist when Theon's fingers breached him. He kissed Theon a little too hard after, bit his lip when he adds a second finger and chased the taste of iron with his tongue when his lip bled.

Theon knew that it hurt, but Robb would never admit to it or anything of the sort. He only hissed and scraped his nails down Theon's back as he worked his fingers in and out. Theon feels a bit dizzy at the feeling of Robb clenching around his fingers, and his cock is leaking at the thought of how it would feel when he's inside him, but he tries to think of a joke, something stupid to say to distract him from the pain. What he ended up saying was, "Remind me to go to the weirwood tree and thank your gods for this oil," and the stupid jape appeared to work because Robb huffed a laugh against his mouth when he kissed him again. Theon grinned.

"You stole that from Maester Luwin's chamber," Robb said. "It's him you should be thanking."

"I haven't had enough wine for that conversation." He said, nosing at Robb's jaw as he started to press himself at his entrance. 

"There isn't enough wine in Dorne for that conversation," Robb said against his ear and Theon laughed, fully laughed, as he pushed into him, his fingers tangling in Robb's curls as he thought _I love you I love you._ Who else would ever laugh with him like this? 

He could feel Robb's chest shake with laughter, pulsing against his belly, and Theon thrust forward, pushing himself in deeper, burying himself to the hilt inside him, burying his grin in the crook of Robb's neck. He couldn't even remember what was so funny, all he could feel was the heat around his cock, Robb's nails scraping his scalp, and he laughed again, huffing into damp skin. He felt the exact moment the pain turned into pleasure for Robb, when his breath hitched and his fingers curled like claws at the nape of Theon's neck, his breaths suddenly sharp and desperate as he rolled his hips to meet his thrusts.

"Theon," he gasped into his neck, his fingers tearing down his back. "Gods, Theon."

"Say my name. Say my name, Robb." He wanted to sound demanding but it sounded more like a beg. He splays his hand across Robb's belly as he fucked him, savoring the way Robb's eyes fluttered with each thrust, the way he parted his lips and pulled Theon down for a kiss, the way he moaned into his mouth. He heard himself babbling nonsense as he got closer and closer to his peak. "My name. No one else. You and me, always." 

"Theon. Theon. _Fuck,"_ Robb panted. Theon's cock pulsed at Robb's curse, his whole body white hot. It almost pushed Theon over the edge too soon. He was so close, he didn't want this to end. He grabbed Robb's cock as he arched off the bed. "Fuck, fuck."

Theon took Robb's face in his hand and held him by the jaw, forcing him to look into his eyes. He wanted to see the look on his face. Robb shuddered beneath him, his toes curling against Theon's side, blue eyes searing into Theon's as he came. When Theon went over the edge of his climax he saw stars across his vision, and Robb's name left his lips like a prayer, the truest one he'd ever uttered, before the strength went out of him and he collapsed onto Robb's chest, hearing nothing but the thundering of his heart. 

In the aftermath, the first coherent thought that entered his mind was, _seven hells, now whores are ruined forever._ He felt Robb's heart beating beneath his ribs.

His fingers trailed down Robb's chest and his mouth followed them, placing soft wet kisses over his damp skin, his tongue flicking out of his mouth to taste the salt. Robb lifted his head and looked down at him with his face flushed and his mouth red and raw with bites.

With a wicked grin, Theon lapped at the seed that spilled across Robb's belly, holding Robb's eyes as he did, relishing in the abashed look on his face.

"You're right," Robb said. "I'm certainly not as perverse as you."

Then he reached for him, pulling Theon in for a kiss, a kiss that was full of teeth when Theon grinned and asked, "Do you like the taste of yourself?"

"Shut up," Robb said, and shut him up with another kiss. Theon allowed himself to be hushed.

He laid that night with Robb in his bed, their legs tangled together. Robb's face was buried in the crook of Theon's neck, his breath keeping his neck damp. It was almost too hot beneath the furs to be comfortable but Theon didn't want to move.

In the slant of moonlight that fell through the window Theon studied Robb's face, from the swell of his lower lip to the shadow of his eyelashes fanned against his cheek. Some powerful feeling tightened in his chest like a fist. Only when he was certain that Robb was fast asleep did Theon touch, ghosting his fingers along the side of his face, before pressing a feather light kiss to his forehead.

This was the only thing he'd ever want. The only thing that felt like home. How could Snow have had this, and decided he could live without it? It was all well, though. If he hadn't, then this night likely would not have happened. He sends the bastard of Winterfell a silent thanks as he brushed a stray lock of hair from Robb's face, letting his fingers linger as they dance across his skin. 

A moment later he heard a whisper.

"Theon." His heart skipped a beat in panic when he looked down and saw Robb smiling. He mumbled into Theon's neck. "I had no idea you were actually a maiden."

Theon sat up in alarm, jostling Robb out of place on the bed.

"I thought you were asleep!" Theon snapped, anger and embarrassment boiling to the surface. He let slip the facade crack again. He'd shown too much, and he couldn't undo it.

"Good thing I wasn't." Robb slung an arm across Theon's chest and rolled on top of him. Robb's eyes were lidded and sleepy as he looked down at him, studying Theon's face. He felt the anger leaking away, melting out of his muscles.

Robb slowly leaned down and kissed his cheek, and Theon will always remember the chasteness of it, the way his eyelashes brushed his skin, before he rolled off of him and into sleep, with his arm still around Theon's waist. He had never felt more wanted in his entire life. This was home, right here. Something grew in his throat that tightened with each breath until he thought it was choking him. The moonlight blurred like water. Tears came to Theon's eyes then.

***

He isn't Theon anymore, but tears come to his eyes even now. He still thinks of that night. When he's huddled in the dark and he tries to remember what came before, before he knew his name was Reek, he thinks of how Robb Stark had kissed a boy named Theon Greyjoy. He had whispered the name "Jon" and Theon had thought it hurt like a knife, but Reek knew what a knife really felt like, and he knew that there are some things that hurt even more.

 _"You won't remember anything but me,"_ a boy named Theon had said, but he'd had it all wrong, because he wouldn't remember anything but Robb. It's the only thing he clings to in the dark. It's the only thing they couldn't pry from his trembling hands. Sometimes when he closes his eyes he sees Robb leaning over him, his voice raspy and slurred like it had been that night, and he wore the same clothes he had then, but the leather is torn in a hundred places, and when he leans down a stream of blood dribbles out of his open mouth and onto Reek's face.

_Would you leave me if you had the chance?_

Robb's teeth and lips are crimson red. Everything is red. Reek remembers the marks Theon's nails had left on Robb's arms, but when he looks to see if they're still there all he sees is blood, seeping from the tears in his clothing and the gash across his neck where the blade had taken his head. 

"Why did you kiss me, Theon? Why did you kiss me then?" he asks, blood spilling from his mouth and down his chin.

"I'm not Theon," he tells him. "There is no Theon anymore."

 _There's only Reek now,_ he thinks as he opens his eyes and stares around the dark cell from where he's huddled on the floor. The ghost of Robb flickers away and there's only the dark pressing on his eyes. _Theon died when you did._

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who has read this horrible thing, thank you so much! Please tell me what you think and share it if you think it's worth sharing. This is my first work for this ship and fandom, I hope I didn't butcher it too badly! :O  
> My smut writing is a bit rusty and I do hope this wasn't OOC. There are some inconsistencies with past tense and present tense being switched around too much because I wrote this mostly on mobile and did a poor job at editing.  
> I haven't read much fanfiction about this ship (even though it's my OTP) so I don't know what tropes/kinks are common so this is just my own personal headcanon for these two I guess. I will probably write additional chapters because I have other ideas written. (They would take place in the past again, pre-Reek.)  
> Sorry if the ending ninja kicked anyone in the feels.


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